


The Young Blood Chronicles

by Awesomepie3221



Category: Fall Out Boy, The Youngblood Chronicles (Music Video)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awesomepie3221/pseuds/Awesomepie3221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't know what's in the brief case, but they know it's important. They don't know why they're being attacked, only that it's happening. And they especially don't know how to stop it, but they know they have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up)

**Author's Note:**

> So I know someone else is writing a story from of the Young Blood Chronicles but I decided to take a crack at it myself! It's a really good way for me to improve my writing and characterization skills for when I, soon, start working on my first book. 
> 
> Plus with how many times I've watched these videos and Save Rock and Roll being my favorite album, it only seems natural.
> 
> I hope if you read this you'll seriously enjoy it, because I know I'm having fun writing it!

He walked with a slouch as he carried the heavy gasoline container. His long dreadlocks swung around as he made his way to the giant pile of sticks that was only a few yards away. The chain on his pants moved at the same time his loose jacket did. He put one boot in front of the other in an almost perfect line.

It was time. Time for _his_ role in the plan. He had always been an impatient person who wouldn’t have been able to wait any more days than he already had to. Any longer and he would have broke. He was already testing the waters by starting a few minutes too early. This was his only part though, he was excited.

He poured the gasoline on the pile until about a quarter of the canister was gone. He jumped in celebration as he realized that this was finally happening, the time was finally here. He poured a little more on the pile to make sure it was completely soaked and then he took his time to stare as the gasoline trickled off the various twigs and sticks in the pile. He had to admire his work before it went up in flames, of course.

He also made sure to look around the area before starting the distinguishable fire. He was pretty far out in the forest, so it would be hard for anyone to find him, but he had the anxiety scratching at him.

When he knew it was clear, he lit the first match of the night as the van arrived. He stared at the small flame flicker, completely entranced. He finally threw it.

The fire started as only a blue ring that reminded him of a gas stove. The fire quickly grew in length and height. It changed from the brilliant blue to a sun-bleached yellow as it lengthened in a line from the gasoline he had placed earlier to add to the moment before the pile started on fire. It traveled fast and he had to run to the stick pile to make sure he saw when the flames finally struck. When the flames grew higher than him, he jumped again and threw his hands out, his middle finger outstretched. A large smile grew on his face. The plan was perfect so far.

The fire was so bright that he was glad that he had decided to wear his sunglasses. _Always thinking ahead_ , he complimented himself.

He danced to the crackling sound the flames were making before finally resting with a slouch. He got rid of his smile.

The two girls who had come from the van finally got out at almost the same time. They started to walk towards him, the driver swung a microphone around her hand by the cord, and the passenger carried a guitar case. He didn’t turn around to look at them. He felt as if that would make him seem weak. He instead cracked his neck and waited for them to pass him and inspect the fire before turning around and walking to where they had come from.

For the girls, the heat felt nice, but at the same time it didn’t. They were both wearing cropped tops with leather jackets and pants. The fall night was cold and the heat was nice on their uncovered stomachs, but felt like it was going to burn them for their covered arms. They ignored the contrast.

The girls were devoured in their work right away. The driver was the first one to burn an instrument. She threw in the microphone and let a smug smile overtake her face. The passenger high-fived her and dug in to her guitar case. When she stood back up, her partner had already thrown a pair of drumsticks. She took a second to watch the wood slowly be engulfed.

_This is going to be so much fun_ , she thought.

She picked up the first thing she saw and threw it in to the fire with a scream of celebration. She was satisfied enough that she let the driver go next while she grabbed a drum.

She looked to see the driver smashing an electric guitar on the frozen ground. She smiled and laughed in pure ecstasy as her partner started to back up from the remaining pieces.

The drum was thrown into the fire, then symbols, then old Fall Out Boy fliers.

With each new object thrown in, all the other things bounced up and the flames grew, if only for one satisfying second.

The passenger, who showed more jubilant expressions than the driver, locked eyes with the driver and gave a wide smile. She laughed and put her hand out. The driver clasped it in a criss-cross position and they watched their beautiful destruction.

“Come on, we can do more,” the driver said.

The amp was up next. The passenger took it and held it above her head and made ape-like noises from the adrenal of the moment. Instead of placing it in the fire herself, she tossed it to her partner. With her teeth clenched, the driver swung the amp and let it go once it built enough momentum. She let the cord slide from her hand at its own pace.

More drums, fliers, and a Fall Out Boy belt are among the things to be burned next. When the comic books and records are burned, the girls know that their job is almost through. The passenger continued to laugh and it intensified when she saw her partner finally laugh back.

He came back holding a blowtorch and they knew it was time for them to back off. They walked away, but they kept an eye on their work with a turned head. When he passed them, they fully turned to look forward, taking back their perfect model walk to the van. During initiation to their cult, they were tortured until they could do a perfect catwalk. They’d often come out of training with bloody and whipped feet. “It must be perfect!” their trainer would yell for hours. No bandages would be offered when they got out, and they’d still be forced to walk and run everywhere. They both knew it was worth it.

He eyed his surroundings as he walked to make sure it’s still safe. The boys were secured in the van, but they could have called for backup that was stalking the forest clearing they were in. The fire had grown, but it would be nothing compared to what he was about to do. That also meant it would be even easier to see.

He put his finger on the stiff trigger of the blowtorch and started to pull. He moved with large flames moving back and forth a few feet, making sure he covered the whole fire pile.

He stayed focused on his work. It was his job, to finish everything off. He started it; he finished it.

The girls had decided that they deserved to see the final touches and they came back. The passenger had her hands behind her head and she laughed.

Both watched a few more things disintegrate before heading back to their van to add the finishing touches.

They opened the large doors in synchronization to reveal four writhing and screaming bodies, hands tied together and a sack over each head.

He lighted one last match.


	2. The Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anything is confusing, any grammar mistakes happen, or I accidentally mixed up the past/present tense, please do tell me!

_Earlier that week…_

 

The warm lights flickered as the four stared at the silver briefcase. They already knew the code, they knew where they were taking it, but they had no idea what was in it. They were all waiting for the first one to open it, all four slightly scared to see.

Patrick was the first to give in and carefully put the code in. Once it was unlocked, he put his hands on the side. Joe was fidgeting at his side, a wide smile and fingers that would not stop playing with each other.

A strong light was emitted as the lid was opened. It hurt all fours eyes, but none looked away.

When the case was fully opened, each reaction was different. Pete put his hands behind his head and took a small step, Andy continued to stare to try to figure the contents out, Joe rubbed his hands together and nodded his head. Patrick felt the least amount, he already had a suspicious feeling as to what this was.

He looked at Pete with a smile and Pete nodded first before moving his eyes to look at Patrick. Andy finally figured it out and shook his head slightly with a grin. Joe bit his lip.

Pete and Patrick locked eyes, already knowing the plan they had created earlier. The briefcase was shut and Patrick was handcuffed to it. His jacket sleeve had been pushed up to reveal his FOB logo tattoo just above his thumb. It was his job to deliver it to the appropriate destination. All four hoped the handcuff would be enough to keep the briefcase in their hands.

Patrick grabbed the handle and walked out of the house. Pete’s neighborhood was a typical upper middle-class, strict association neighborhood. Everyone’s lawn was cut at a perfect length, clean sidewalks, and houses that are so nice that if one roof went bad, the whole thing would be ruined.

His head was on a constant swivel. Look to the left, then the right, straight, back, repeat. The sun hit his glasses in a perfect glint at the side of his eye and he got scared, tightening the grip on the briefcase.

He passed the RV in one of the driveways and he knew he’s close. Closer to safety, if nothing else.

He heard the sound of a bike and turned quickly, looked around, and saw nothing. He got more panicked as he continued to hear the creaking sound of the chain on the bike.

_It’s just kids enjoying the day_ , he tells himself. He tightened his grip even more. He bit his lip and continued moving. Only a block left.

He was about to turn a corner when the kid on his bike stops in front of him.

Patrick fell off of his guard when he saw that the boy was only in his early teens. He was so relieved that he slows down and gives a short smile. The boy stared at him with what is almost a scowl but eventually gave him a tooth-filled grin.

The sincerity of the situation was so full that Patrick showed his teeth in a smile and failed to hear the sound of the running high-heels on the sidewalk behind him.

Something sharp is placed on his neck and then he’s out.

He woke up later and a bag was secured over his head. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t move, and it was hard to breath, but the worst were the sounds. There were clanking and metallic things hitting each other, and high heels all around.

“I think he’s awake,” he heard a girl say. The response is mumbled and he couldn’t make anything out through his heart beat in his ears.

The sack is taken off and immediately he’s struggling, trying to pull himself from the straps holding him down. His left hand is stretched out and is on a cold metal table, his other hand is on the chair.

One girl went behind him and forced a piece of cloth into his open mouth, pulling him violently forward while shushing him. The make shift gag was gone the next second and he was shouting whatever popped in to his mind.

A drill is pressed upon his cheek, above his head. They walked around him in a crouched position, teasing him with other tools and hissing at him.

A girl was behind him again and she wrapped her hand in his hair and licked his ear while the other girl teased him with her long, snake-like tongue.

Eventually they stopped teasing and got down to the actual torture. The same girl who licked his ear wrapped her arm around his neck in order to hold him back while the other girl took a butcher knife and chopped off the hand that was handcuffed to the briefcase with a clean cut and a devious smile on her face.

The pain that shot up him was excruciating and he lurched forward with everything he had; a scream painted the walls.

The girl took her butcher knife and licked up the dull side, the smooth metal feeling nice on her rough tongue. Afterwards, she picked up the hand and stuck it in a grocery bag.

“Get this to Pete Wentz’s house,” she told it to the boy that he handed it to. The same boy that distracted Patrick, allowing him to get kidnapped.

The boy was back on his bike and in the neighborhood in no time.

Pete was talking to his girlfriend when the boy rang his doorbell. They were both snuggled in the blankets and relaxed and comfortable. Both sat up in bed and looked at each other.

“I’ll get it,” Pete said. He got out of his bed and as he walked down the hall he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Patrick had been strapped down on a table and had various cuts from the torture happening to him in the amount of time it took the boy to reach Pete’s house and Pete to get out of his bed.

Pete opened his front door and Patrick blocked his face with his remaining hand, screaming at the top of his lungs.

There was a plastic bag hanging on Pete’s doorknob outside and Pete picked it up with confusion. He gazed inside and saw Patrick’s bloody hand in it, the distinguishable FOB tattoo face up and ready to be seen. He looked around before running his hand through his hair and letting out a breath of air. He slammed his door shut, bag still in hand.

Pete rushed to get completely dressed and he headed outside to where he kept his messenger falcon.  He shoved on the bird glove and picked up the bird from its cage. The bird hopped on his hand and when he stuck his arm out with determination, the bird flew off to look for Joe and Andy. He knew they were on their guard to look out for the falcon.

Andy was in a parking lot, walking to the store when he saw the bird fly above him. He was distracted by the meaning of the bird. Patrick was in trouble.

A black van showed up in front of him and suddenly a girl was toppling on to him, using all her body weight to push him to the van.

“Shhhhh,” one of the girls said to Patrick, a finger in front of her mouth. He promptly shut up, feeling defeated. He closed his eyes and couldn’t help but make small sputtering noises as he felt existing blood dry up and all the new cuts and bruises sting like hell. His body continued to fight for him even though he willed it to stop. Scissors were placed against his thin shirt and he felt even more defeated. He heard tools be exchanged and he heard more being picked up from the tray next to him. Something was grinded in to him and he spat whatever fluid was in his mouth involuntarily.

He was back to screaming empty threats and dirty words; the girls above him exchanged smiles. His body started convulsing again, but the seatbelt strapped around his chest made him absolutely useless.

The falcon found Joe at a gas station a little while after Andy. He had a cigarette in his mouth and the gas pump in his hand when he saw him. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and determination filled his cold eyes. He was ready to fight.

Soon enough a chloroform soaked cloth was placed against his mouth and he passed out quickly. When Joe was on the ground, his kidnapper looked at the sky and took a deep breath.

_We have them all_ , she thought.

Something was pressed against Patrick’s cheek and Joe was dragged to the same van Pete and Andy resided in.

Pete was attacked by his girlfriend shortly after he let the falcon go. He was staring at the sky, wondering what was going to happen to them now when she snuck up behind him, needle in hand. With one arm she stuck the full syringe in his neck and wrapped her other arm around his neck. He went limp immediately.

The tools were placed down and the straps on Patrick started to be loosened. Although very exhausted, Patrick managed to look a the hands undoing the seat belt around him before falling back down. He passed out.

He woke up a few minutes later, ropes tied around him and a large table with a feast in the middle of an almost pitch-black room.

He took a deep breath and snapped his fingers.


End file.
